Lord of the Rings The Fellowship of 2013
by RebelSauce
Summary: This is meant to be a parody of sorts on the wonderful Fellowship, so I hope you enjoy it and find it funny and whatnot! You know, taking the Ring of Power into Mordor and throwing it into Mount Doom is so overrated. That's why Lord Elrond devised a plan. This plan involved sending the nine members of the Fellowship of the Ring into modern times, 2013 to be exact!
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**The Other Council of Elrond**

It was a day like any other at the Elven outpost of Rivendell. Birds chirped, the water splashed about carelessly. The Elves were as merry as they had been for well...a long time. Thousands of years. They sang and acted perfect as usual. Yup. Imladris was as safe as it had always been. Oh wait...the Dark Lord? Hm, I guess that he's pretty dangerous and threatening. Just a bit.

Okay, seriously though. It was the Third Age, year 3018, if my mind serves me correctly. It was about a week or so before Christmas, but things were not so jolly and no stocking were hung with care, because now this Dark Lord I mentioned is trying to take over Middle-Earth. Sucks, doesn't it? It's like Hitler all over again! But! There was just one thing getting in the way of Sauron's complete domination. And that was the Ring of Power. Gasp! You mean the one forged years ago in which he poured all his cruelty and malice but then it was cut off by Isildur and he kept it for himself like a selfish idiot and then he was attacked by Orcs and it fell into the hands of Gollum for many years?! Yes! That's the one.  
Except it's not really owned by Gollum anymore. Through his Uncle Bilbo, it fell into the hands of a young Frodo Baggins, who's shoulders were now burdened with the fate of Middle Earth. Pfft. Yeah. Like a Hobbit was going to save the world. If only that actually was a joke. But anyways. Now, taking the wise advice of Gandalf the Grump...I mean, Gray, sorry, Frodo traveled to Rivendell to seek the council of Lord Elrond. He was accompanied along with some of his little Hobbit friends, Samwise Gamgee, Meriadoc Bradnybuck, and Peregrin Took. And he also met along the way a Ranger of the North, who went by the name of Aragorn.

And so in Rivendell, a council of super special proportions was held, in which Elrond kept babbling along about stuff like Mordor, death, Sauron, death, saving the world, hopelessness, and oh yeah. Death. Almost forgot that one. And so, after what seemed like forever, a sort of Company was formed. A Fellowship, created so that the Ring may be destroyed and Middle-Earth could be saved.

In this Fellowship, there was a total of nine members. Frodo, obviously, since he had the Ring. His three Hobbit friends. Gandalf, since he was the only one smart enough to lead all these helpless babies. Aragorn, who really just wanted to go to Gondor and get crowned King already. Boromir, son of Denethor, who just wanted to protect his people. Oh, and he wanted to bother Aragorn too. The two men had not got off to the most peaceful of starts. And then there was Legolas the Elf, who was so busy fixing his hair he hardly even knew what he'd gotten himself into. And then, lastly, there was Gimli, the angry little dwarf who everyone was secretly making fun of behind his back since he had tried to destroy the Ring with his silly little ax. Pfft. Amateur.

It would be a few weeks before the Fellowship was to depart, and this time gave the Fellowship time to bond and become more of a family. In other words, they all grew likes and dislikes towards certain individuals. I've already touched on the dislike Aragorn and Boromir shared for each other, but that wasn't all. Gandalf had a clear disliking for Pippin, and maybe even Merry, since the two were always running about and causing a muck. He was barely able to keep himself from blasting them into a million little pieces with his staff. And Legolas and Gimli had developed a certain competition between each other. Everything they did, whether it was a matter of walking faster or finishing dinner sooner, they always seemed to be in some sort of race.  
One night, a few days after the council had commenced, Elrond summoned the Fellowship into his private chambers [he'd made sure to hide all of the strange portraits he'd acquired of Legolas and Aragorn]. There only being one chair, the nine all sat around in a circle as Elrond took his seat. He eyed each one of them, mainly receiving blank or impatient stares in return. "Who hear remembers me saying that you must destroy the Ring in the fires of Mount Doom?" he began, his eyes flickering once more over each member. None of the Hobbits raised their hands, and wore dumbfounded looks on their faces. Both Legolas and Gimli raised their hands, Legolas raising his quicker, which caused Gimli to mutter dwarven curses under his breath. Aragorn, Boromir, and Gandalf had of course remembered, but they all found it too childish to raise their hands.  
"Well. What I said was a lie. You guys don't really have to go to Mordor, but-," Elrond began but his voice was soon drowned out by an array of thunderous cheers. Legolas was already standing up to leave, and Aragorn seemed as though he were about to follow.  
"You hear that Merry? We're not going to starve!" Pippin exclaimed, and also muttered something to his friend about not having to endure Gandalf's presence.  
"Now hold on a minute, you idiots!" Elrond yelled above the excited and relieved chatter, and Legolas and Aragorn paused midway to the door. They grumbled to themselves and took their seats again.

"I only said the Ring must be destroyed so I could hide my true plans," Elrond began again, a sly grin tugging at his lips. "I've devised a far better, more efficient plan for all of you to take part in," he said, and from there he stood up and went into the corner of his room. And at that moment everyone say a large tarp covering something. Funny. It was so big yet they hadn't seen it before. Clutching the sheet, Elrond pulled back his creation. It was a giant portal seemingly, with an assortment of buttons and lights and from it shone a glowing purple aura. There were many 'oohs' and 'aahs', most of which came from Pippin and Legolas.

"Um. Would you mind telling us what the heck that is?" Boromir said with an arched eyebrow. Perhaps it was a weapon he could use for his people! Surely this contraption would give the men of Gondor an advantage in the war! So many thoughts as these raced through Boromir's mind that he did not even hear Elrond as he began to speak again.

"This, my friends, is a time travelling portal. You see, the best way to keep the Ring form Sauron, is by advancing yourselves into the future. That way, he'll never be able to get it!" Elrond explained, obviously believing that his plan was full proof. The others were dumb enough to believe it though, so why the heck not?

Gandalf, out of all, seemed the least convinced, though he couldn't deny he was intrigued. "How far do you plan on sending us, Elrond? And how long shall we stay?" he questioned suspiciously.

"Very far into the future, my dear friend. I do the year specifically, but I can promise you it will be far different from this Age. And do not worry about how long you stay, you're old! You haven't anything better to do!" Elrond replied with a hearty laugh, though he couldn't help but wince slightly from Gandalf's menacing gaze. He was one to talk about being old. He was nearly as old as dirt!

A silence washed over the room. The Fellowship were either looking at each other, sending silent questions like, 'Do you think it's safe?' or 'Is Elrond trying to kill us?', but after a few minutes, they all seemed to ready themselves to leave.

"Do not worry about food or clothing. Those things will still be there in the future! All will become clear to you when you get there," he reassured them, for the Hobbits all had worried looks on there faces.

And yet another pause. But Boromir was growing impatient. "Well, what are we waiting for?! FOR GONDOR!" he yelled valiantly, drawing his sword and charging for the purple portal. And then, like a flash, he vanished, which caused the others to gasp in shock. "We better follow him in there before he does something stupid. More stupid than usual, that is," Aragorn muttered irritably, now making his way for the portal at a much slower pace. He didn't even get to tell Arwen goodbye, dammit! She wasn't going to be happy about that, especially since it was that time of the month. But oh well. She wouldn't be able to yell at him in the future! After Aragorn, The four Hobbits were pushed forward one by one into the portal by Gandalf, who went in last, after Legolas and Gimli. Within a few minutes, the Fellowship had vanished, being mercilessly flung into a completely different world. Fellowship, meet California, in the year 2013. 2013 California, meet the Fellowship.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

**Shortcut to Los Angeles **

It all seemed like a tremendous blur as the Company was thrown into the future, after going through Elrond's magical portal. How did he even get that machine? Even Legolas, who knew a thing or two about Elves, could not even begin to guess. What seemed liked ages and ages of floating through darkness and light, the Fellowship finally saw daylight once more. In an instant, they all fell on top of each other in pile, grunting and spluttering with exasperation.

Pippin was the first to stand up, and he dizzily placed a hand on his forehead. "Aye, my head hurts so bad," he moaned, his knees wobbling before he fell on his face once more.

Gandalf was grumbling like an old man who'd just been robbed of his prune juice, and aggressively pushed Legolas off of his back, who had been lying there, just smelling the roses and humming some sort of Elven song. The wizard stood up, dusted himself off, and looked around to take in their surroundings. They were on a small hill, of a richly green color, and decorated here and there with flowers of various colors. He shaded his eyes with his hand, peering about him and thinking about where to go from here. "Legolas! Can see anything?" he asked, and Legolas sprang up, eager to show off his keen Elven eyesight.

He gazed around the whole hill, and after a few minutes, he pointed west, and squinted slightly. "Looks like there are a lot of buildings over there. Should we head that way?" he asked, and Gandalf nodded. He was about usher them forward, but was stopped short by Aragorn. He had found something among the grass, and when he held it up to the sunlight, it appeared to be a small leather booklet. He flipped through the pages, his eyes flickering as he scanned the printed words.

It's a book, written by Lord Elrond. A manual, he calls it. It's supposed to tell us what to do," he said. He was about to begin reading when Boromir attempted to snatch it out of his hands. Aragorn quickly moved the book away before it could be grabbed, and he held it high above his head. Oh, how he loved the advantages that came with being the tallest in the Fellowship. After a minute of bickering between the two men, Boromir finally stormed away and stood beside Gimli, looking quite aggravated that Aragorn had nor shared with him.

"Fellowship," Aragorn began reading. "If you are reading this now, then you have made it safely to the future. Over the past year, I have been travelling through this time machine, trying to collect information so you could be equipped with the proper knowledge of how to survive. Firstly, you are in a place called California [Aragorn had immense trouble pronouncing this name], in a city called Los Angeles [he also had difficulty with the city name]. I have provided a map on page twenty for you. I could only accumulate a small amount of money for you, and you'll find it hidden on page sixteen. Now you must travel into the city, and find a tall red building with many windows. There will be a woman there. Ask her to rent an apartment. You'll have to sign some papers, but I promise you it will be fine. This is confusing, I understand, but with this booklet, I'm sure you can get the hang of it," he finished reading the first few pages and looked up to gaze around at the others, mostly Gandalf, since he was their faithful guide and everything.

Gandalf had been listening intently to what Aragorn read, and when he'd finished, Gandalf gave a curt nod, moving forward and motioning for them to follow him. "Come then! I think I can see a path down this slope and mile beyond," he urged, and the were off, the hobbits nearly being forgotten about as they dashed forward. They didn't go on for long before they reached this "path" Gandalf had pointed out, but each one of them looked terribly frightened and confused as they reached it. For one thing, the road [actually, it was a freeway] was made of asphalt. Secondly, there was a number of cars zooming along it, which threw the Fellowship into utter bewilderment.  
"What...What are these evil creatures?" Sam whined, cowering behind Frodo, which didn't really hide him properly given that he was far fatter than Frodo.

Aragorn uneasily flipped through the book, hoping to find something that would give them some information on these foul beings. "It's called an automobile. They help people get to places faster, but you need a special card to use one," he said, and took a few unsure steps toward the road. "Well. Let's go then! This should lead us to Los...whatever it's called like Gandalf said," he declared, and with that, he stepped onto the black road, followed by Gimli, who was determined to get ahead of Legolas, and then the others.

This did not make many of the drivers happy. They all came to a halting stop as the nine walked along the lane, and many people began to roll down their windows and yell insults at them. As if the traffic to L.A. wasn't bad enough, they were making it even worse by walking in the streets. They received many strange looks as well, being all clad in armor, Gandalf with his wizard robes and staff, and the little Hobbits who were terribly frightened by this whole journey. They were also able to learn some of those lovely modern insults from these kindhearted drivers. Frodo and Legolas continued to scream shrilly every time someone honked their horn at them, which greatly annoyed the rest of them.

An hour, maybe more had passed. None of them could really tell. It seemed to take forever with everyone either complaining or screaming or getting distracted by the big signs of yellow and white dashes painted on the road. Soon enough though, just before the sun would set, they arrived at the city of Los Angeles. The streets were incredibly busy, the air smoggy [which was very different from what they were accustomed to], and the buildings were larger than mallorn trees.

And so began the search for the apartment asked as many people as they could if they knew of any red buildings with multiple windows, but most folks were generally unwilling to provide them help. Meetings between other people mostly involved them asking a question and people looking at them like they were aliens from outer space. But the Fellowship thought the exact same about these people. Gimli continued to comment about how everyone's pants seemed to be falling down, and how girls didn't even seem to be wearing pants at all, what with their daisy dukes. But Aragorn didn't seem to mind those women. They all looked so smooth and well...the big breasts didn't really help. Arwen who? Anyways. The buildings perplexed them, as did even something as simple as a fire hydrant, which Merry was terribly afraid of.

After about two hours, the Company was finally able to find the big red apartment complex, thanks to the aid of some elderly women who were selling flower bouquets on the street corner. There was indeed a woman there at the front desk, as Elrond had written, and the process of acquiring an apartment was long and complicated. They didn't quite understand how to fill out forms, and they had to speedily create a fake ID, which was terribly created by Merry and Pippin. But, the woman being old and nearly blind, she couldn't even tell. Soon enough, they were given a key and their apartment number. Second floor. Apartment 25. Only three bedrooms. Two bathrooms. A kitchenette. And a tiny little living room.

The Fellowship thought it was suitable enough however. It was nicely furnished with beds, couches, tables, and chairs, but they would later have to buy common household appliances later, like hairdryers or toasters. There was also heated arguments on who would room with whom. In the end, after much crying and whining, Aragorn had somehow managed to get himself trapped with Boromir, Gandalf would have the couch in the living room, Legolas would share a room with Frodo and Sam, and Merry and Pippin would be with Gimli.

Realizing how late it had become, the Fellowship separated into little groups, each choosing their bedrooms and retiring for the night. Or at least they'd planned on retiring. Legolas at first hand't minded be with Merry and Pip, but now he regretted agreeing to it

"Legolas! Scoot over. We need our foot room," Pippin order, nudging the elf closer and closer to the edge of the bed until he and Merry had about three quarters. It was even worse that they'd chosen the master bedroom, for now Legolas couldn't have the pleasure of having his own wouldn't be getting an beauty sleep tonight.

The situation with Frodo, Sam, and Gimli actually wasn't that bad. Being tiny little Hobbits, Sam and Frodo shared a bed [slash not intended...or maybe it is], and Gimli had his own. They all fell asleep quite quickly.

Aragorn wasn't granted with a lot of sleep either. He was glad he didn't have to share a bed with that wretched Boromir, but every time he was about to sleep, Boromir, who was apparently a very avid dreamer, would shout, "For Gondor!" and end all hopes of Aragorn falling into slumber. "The things I would make him do if I was King," he grumbled to himself, turning his back towards the Steward Prince and grumbling to himself.

And so it begins, the Fellowship in the year 2013. Already they'd hit some rough patches, and they hardly knew how to function in such a foreign place, but hopefully tomorrow they would sort things out with the help of Elrond's small book.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

**Pick a Job, Any Job!**

The next morning, the Fellowship all took quite a long time to get up and face the day. Sure it was their first official day in modern times, but they were not ready to brave it whatsoever. Gandalf was the first to awaken, and he had one hell of a time trying to wake up the others. Aragorn and Legolas were easy; they didn't even see the point of trying to stay in bed if they weren't going to get any sleep. Sam and Frodo were generally pretty easy too. But Gimli, Merry, and Pippin took much more coaxing. And by coaxing, I mean Gandalf used to his staff to force them out of bed.

Once everybody was up, the Hobbits began to complain loudly like a quartet of infants. "Gandaaaalf. I'm sooo hungry," Merry whined, sitting crestfallen on the floor as if he'd just been robbed of his last piece of Halloween candy.

"Yeah Mr. Gandalf sir, me too. Can we go find some food? Please?!" Sam begged, Frodo clinging to him and whimpering sadly.  
Gandalf looked around at the others, who were also hungry, and they gave Gandalf pleading looks. He rolled his eyes, and threw up his hands in defeat. "Fine fine fine! We'll go find some place to eat, okay? And bring the booklet Aragorn. We might need it," he said, and as Aragorn did as he was told, Gandalf ushered the rest of the Fellowship out the door.

They headed of down the sidewalk, having no real idea of where they were going. Legolas had brought his bow and arrows, having believed that they would actually have to hunt down a deer or something. "It says here that people don't hunt their food! Or gather it! What...?" Aragorn looked totally confused, and he read the rest of the page to himself. "Oh. They have these buildings that sell food! Well how about that?" he said with raised eyebrows. At that moment, a man shoved past them, a McDonalds paper bag in one hand and a Big Mac in the other.  
"Maybe we ought to get what he had," Gandalf said to himself, but the Hobbits were growing impatient.

"Can we just go somewhere? For crying out loud, you guys! We're Hobbits! We need food, and we need it now!" Pippin said, and with that he ran forward into a sea of people. Gimli yelled after him, growling and gripping his ax and running forward to find him.

"Idiots! This whole Fellowship really wasn't worth my time," Legolas said with a roll of his eyes, and after Aragorn and Boromir had picked up the remaining Hobbits [even someone like Boromir had trouble supporting obese Samwise], the rest of the Fellowship hurried forward, their eyes scanning the ground desperately for any sign of a giant red beard or big hairy feet. Aragorn, who was in front of the others, halted when a tall building came in sight. It was a McDonalds, and people were filing in and out of it with food. He pointed to it, ushering them forward. "They're probably in there. Or at least Pippin will be," he said, and with that, they bounded towards the Diabetes Center. Or McDonalds. Same thing.

As soon as they walked in, they were horrified to see Gimli right in front of the entrance, pinning Pippin up to the wall with his ax and throwing Dwarven expletives at him. "Gimli, shut up! You're attracting too much attention to yourself," Aragorn growled, pushing Gimli away from the terrified Hobbit. The entire joint was silent, and all eyes were on the nine. "See what you've done? Okay...Just act natural guys," he muttered to the others, and so they did, as they strode forward to what looked like the place to order the food. For once, Legolas and Gimli weren't racing. Boromir was trying to act too naturally, and he ended up looking like a complete fool the way he was taking long strides with his hands clasped behind his back.

Aragorn went up to the counter, followed closely behind by the others. The cashier inquired him on what they wanted. He squinted at the bright menu, and his pale eyes moved back to the others. "That's the food list thingy. What do you guys want?" he asked blandly, turning back to the others.

"Do they have and lembas? I could use some lembas," Legolas asked, coming closer to take a look at the menu. Unfortunately, McDonalds's lembas stock had completely run out, and Legolas simply asked for a iceberg lettuce salad, which he thought had a very odd name. Did that mean the lettuce would be frozen? Gimli ordered a McRib, and so Merry just a simple cheeseburger, and they agreed to share fries. Since Sam and Frodo shared everything, they just asked for a Happy Meal, but they requested that they put two toys in the bag. Boromir, Gandalf, and Pippin ordered Big Macs, and Aragorn, who wasn't that hungry, simply asked for some strange looking drink called a McFlurry, with some strange topping called m&m's. Once their order was prepared, Aragorn and Gandalf had one hell of a time trying to give the cashier the right amount of change. By the time they'd finally gotten in right, there was a long line of impatient people behind them, and they all gave sarcastic cheers when the two were finally done.

The others had chosen a table, or rather, they combined about three tables since there were nine of them. Legolas was dealing out the food, but the Hobbits surprisingly didn't begin to chow down when they received their food. Sam and Frodo were more excited about the toys, which were Disney Princess figurines, but Merry and Pippin were holding up their burgers and examining them closely. "What kind of food is this? They haven't got this in the Shire, Pip," Merry said with an arched eyebrow. The others had already begun eating as they spoke to each other.

Legolas wasn't all that appalled by his salad, and just hoped it wasn't fattening. He couldn't risk getting any arm flab. Gimli, who was convinced Legolas would want to have a food eating race, was already taking rapid bites of his McRib, which he admitted wasn't all that bad either. Boromir was eating his Big Mac just fine, but even with his mouth full, that didn't stop him from talking about how much the men of Gondor would love such a hearty meal. Gandalf seemed repulsed by his Big Mac, looked like he might gag from it's taste. It tasted of weight gain. Aragorn liked his McFlurry, after he became accustomed to the frigid temperature. He was now more focused on the hot babes coming in and out of the food place, and he wondered if they knew it was winter. Because they didn't really dress like it. If he were King, he'd make all of them his personal maids. And while he was at it, Arwen could be a maid too. By now, Merry and Pippin had finally decided to start eating, and they looked like they were in heaven. The grease, the cheese, the sesame seed bun. They loved it all. Especially Pip. He even stole Sam and Frodo's burger when they weren't looking.

"Aragorn...Aragorn...Aragorn...Aragorn!" Gandalf had been repeating the ranger's name, but he'd been so entranced with the thought of modern women he didn't notice until Gandalf had raised his voice. Once he had Aragorn's attention, he showed him a Los Angeles Times newspaper which he'd gotten from a rack by the entrance. "I was looking through Elrond's book when you were oh so busy," he began gruffly as he flitted through the papers. "And he said that in order to acquire more of that green paper, you have to get a job. So, I'm going to pass around this paper and we're all going to pick something we find suitable," he said, now addressing the rest of the Company. He'd already chosen his job. Since it was Christmas time, the malls would need some good Santas and Gandalf felt, having a beard and all, that he was just the right person for it. He didn't know what a Santa was, or rather, who it was, or a mall [they really didn't know anything, the fools], but it said "Authentic Beard Wanted!" and he was set!

Aragorn was now looking through the job ads, with Boromir peeking over his shoulder. Aragorn kept shoving him away, but Boromir continued to rest his chin on Elessar's shoulder. "Oh and by the way, you two," Gandalf addressed Boromir and Aragorn. "I think it would be safer if you two worked together. That way if something were to happen, there would be someone to have your back," he said, speaking more as if it were an order than an option. Aragorn gave the wizard a 'Oh my gosh, why do you hate me?' look, but he knew there was no arguing. His attention was drawn away when Boromir was pointing to a particular ad. "How about that one? Babysitting! Imagine, getting paid to sit on children. And look, I think it's on the same street as out apartment," he said, and since Aragorn no longer cared what he did since it would be with Boromir anyway, he agreed. At least if it was close, he could run away crying to Legolas or Gandalf when they were finished.

When the papers were passed over to the Hobbits, they all looked uncertain. "Um...Gandalf? I don't think anyone will really take us seriously. We're not even four feet tall. Can't we just stay home?" Frodo asked hopefully, his big blue eyes glimmering hopefully.

"Pfft. No," Gandalf immediately shot down that option. He could care less if they brought home money or not, but he couldn't stand them being in the apartment all day making a mess. He flipped through the leather book for a moment, and his beard twitched as he smiled a bit. "You can go to school! It's where young people learn and socialize. We'll get you signed up tomorrow. And don't you dare complain or I'll throw you out a window," he warned as Pippin looked as if he was about to complain.

The papers were passed onto Legolas and Gimli, who both looked at it with narrowed eyes. Legolas immediately squealed with delight when he saw an ad for a beauty salon. "I'm beautiful, so of course they're going to except me! Unlike...some people," He said with a smug grin, shoving the papers into Gimli's face triumphantly.

Gimli growled, swearing under his breathe as he snatched the papers and continued to look at them. None of the jobs were too his liking, but then policeman popped up and he seemed slightly intrigued. And if that never worked out, there was always dressing up as a banana and dancing in front of the smoothie shop down the street. And just like that, Legolas and Gimli had made it a competition. "I bet I'm going to make more money than you, dwarf. And I'll probably be promoted too," Legolas said confidently, and he and the dwarf argued for the rest of the time at McDonalds about who was better and why.

The rest of the day of the day was surprisingly not that hectic. Aragorn and Boromir had gone for their interview in babysitting for a mother who worked nearly every day, and they somehow managed to get the job. The whole thing with Boromir threatening the poor woman with his sword probably had something to with getting the job.

Gandalf, who decided to just go to the mall to interview tomorrow, took the Hobbits school supplies shopping, which was very annoying for him. He made sure to buy a lot of erasers, taking in the fact that Merry and Pippin were especially accident prone. That time with the fireworks was still vivid in his mind.

Legolas and Gimli also had their interviews. Legolas's sweet Elvish complexion and polite demeanor easily got him the job, and the small police sect in the area really loved Gimli's aggressive, "leave no man alive" attitude. It probably wasn't a good idea to give Gimli a gun [he was bad enough with an ax], but hey. It was either that, or the banana. Take your pick.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

**Aragorn and Boromir, Babysitting Extraordinaires **

"Hurry up, Boromir, or we'll be late!" Aragorn was sitting on the floor by the front door of the apartment, and judging by the sour expression in his face, it was going to be a long day with Boromir. The woman down the street would expecting them to arrive in a few minutes, and the heir of Isildur had become most impatient.

"All right all right, I'm coming! Unlike you, ranger, I prefer to look acceptable when going out in public," he said as he came out of their bedroom, a sly smirk on his face. Aragorn rolled his eyes, and couldn't but help at that moment compare himself to the Steward Prince. Boromir was clad in his typical attire, that maroon tunic that looked strangely like pajamas, covered by his leather gray vest. His golden brown hair was neatly combed and his beard was trimmed. The Horn of Gondor was strapped around his shoulders, and his sword was sheathed at his side. Aragorn's eyes then wandered down to his own clothes, and he grimaced inwardly. His own vest and tunic was covered in grime. In fact, nearly every part of him was covered in grim. But that was manly, was it not? Whatever the answer was, Aragorn would keep telling himself that.

Aragorn didn't respond to Boromir's insult, but simply growled menacingly as he flung open the apartment door. Why must they share everything? It bothered him greatly. If only he were King. He'd force Boromir to shine his shoes, clean his sword, and heck, whatever else he wanted. The duo headed down the flight of steps that led out onto the street, and Boromir, who had scribbled directions onto a piece of paper, skipped merrily along the sidewalk, Aragorn following behind and wishing there was a cliff nearby so he could jump off of it and escape the time he'd have to endure with Boromir.

It only took a few simple minutes before the two men reached the house in which they assumed they would just be sitting on children. Aragorn stepped up onto the porch of the one-story home, and knocked gently on the door. When no answer came, he knocked softly once more. After a few moments of uneventful waiting, Boromir shoved him out of the way with a grunt and banged loudly and repeatedly on the door. Sure enough, an answer came shortly after that, and a woman appeared at the door. She smiled at them, her expression friendly but twisted with nervousness. She hadn't forgotten the interview, in which Boromir had pressed his sword up to her neck and threatened her to accept them. "Oh! So nice to see you two, mister um," she paused, trying to remember their strange sounding names. "Mr. Aragorn and Boromir," she said cordially as the two stepped into her home and glanced around curiously. Or at least, Boromir was looking around. Aragorn's eyes had been fixed intently on the woman. Dang. She was fine. _'Oh man. If only I was King. She would be my special mistress...No, Aragorn! What are you saying? Arwen ring a bell? Yeah. You're betrothed to her, bro. Just...Just look away. IGNORE THE LEGS AT ALL COSTS,'_ the two sides of the ranger's conscience battled furiously for a few seconds, but the voice of Boromir drew him back into reality.

"So, ma'am. Where's your little boy? And I had a few questions," Boromir began as the woman led them into the living room, where a baby no more than eighteen months sat in a rocking chair, kicking his legs back and forth excitedly. "How long should we sit on him? And should we take turns?" he asked, and when the woman gave him a horrified look, he simply gazed back at her expectantly.

The woman was left speechless, but soon a small smile crept up onto her lips. She truly believed he was joking, because what sort of fool would ask such a question? She laughed lightly, patting the man's chest and shaking her head. "Oh...Nice one, babe," she said in a flirtatious manner, which caused Aragorn to secretly seethe under the surface. She grabbed her keys and made her way for the door, waving goodbye to the two of them. "There's a list of everything you need to do on the fridge. I'll be back in a few hours," she said, and with that she was gone.  
The men stood there motionless for a few moments, but soon Boromir rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Well, I guess I'll go first then. Ready, little guy?" he said to the child, who was looking at him like he was an octopus juggling bowling balls. With that, Boromir turned his backside towards the boy, and just before he was about to rest his rump on the poor baby, Aragorn pushed him roughly to the ground, his eyebrows furrowed.

"What do you think you're doing, fool? You didn't really think that's how you're supposed to babysit, do you? Babysitting is just another word for childcare," he grumbled, rolling his eyes. Since he never got any sleep being Boromir's roommate, he simply stayed up most of the night and read through Elrond's book. He'd learned a thing or two about well, a lot of things, but mostly babysitting. He headed into the kitchen, and sure enough, there was a list pinned to the refrigerator. He took it into his hands, scanning over it with a single raised eyebrow. The first thing on the list was feeding the kid. That seemed to be simple enough for even Boromir to do, so once he'd found the baby food and a small spoon, he shoved it into Boromir's hands, who was still on the floor. "Here. You can feed him. Don't screw up," he said in a straightforward tone, leaving Boromir in the living room as he went to explore the rest of the house.

Boromir watched with narrowed eyes as Aragorn stalked away, and looked back at the baby, who still held the same blank expression. "Ignore him, child. He's just an old sour puss who can't have fun," he whispered to the child, spooning some of the food and tentatively placing it in front of the baby's mouth. The boy willing swallowed down the mushy meal, and it went on like this for a few bitefuls until Boromir grew curious. He looked down at the label on the baby food, and squinted slightly. "Peaches and carrots?" he read aloud, but soon gasped in delight. "I love peaches and carrots!" he exclaimed happily, and he plunged a spoonful of the stuff right into his mouth. A long string of gagging noises followed after that, and Boromir choked, sticking his tongue out in pure disgust. "Ugh! Why would they feed you such wretched filth?" he exclaimed, setting down the food and running into the bathroom to wash out his mouth.

Aragorn was in the woman's bedroom, looking through her erm...delicates drawers [apparently, the holy side of his conscience didn't convince him that well]. He stopped midway in his rummaging when he heard some strange wretching noises from outside, and quickly shoved a bright red thong down his shirt. He stood up with a groan, making his way swiftly towards the living room. He did pause by the bathroom though, and even though he did his very best, he couldn't help but suppress the tiniest smirk when he saw Boromir hunched over the toilet, coughing and spluttering bitterly. He continued on his way until he reached the living room, where the little toddler was growing impatient and hungry. Aragorn bit his lip, and kneeled down by the chair, finishing up Boromir's seemingly simple job of feeding the kid and discarding the empty baby food cup into the waste bin. He sniffed at one of his hands, and wrinkled his nose when the smell of not peaches, but carrots, wafted up into his nostrils. Rats, he could eat, but carrots, nope. Ever since that day long ago when Elrond had made carrot stew. He shuddered from the thought, and returned into the living room after thoroughly washing his hands.

Boromir had returned, and was now in the feeble position, hugging his knees to his chest and rocking back and forth, an soft whimper occasionally emitting from his mouth. "Quit you're crying. What sort of man of Gondor cries because he ate something he didn't like?" Aragorn said with a huff, satisfied that his words had gotten Boromir to quiet down. He was about to look at the list again, when another horrible scent entered his nasal cavity. He immediately pinched his nose, and grimaced. "Boromir, do you smell that?" he began, and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "It wasn't you, was it?" he snarled, and Boromir looked absolutely offended.

"Me?! Of course not! If anyone, it's you! There's nothing wrong with smelling a musky, but you! Don't even get me started," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand, now getting on his hands and knees and sniffing around like a dog in search for the origins of the putrid odor, even though he was already convinced it was Aragorn and his manly stench. He stopped short though as he passed the child, and now he was quite sure that the child's rear end was the source of the stench. He awkwardly picked up the child, and he placed the child's bum near Aragorn's face. "Go on! Smell it," he commanded, and Aragorn, tired of these foolish games, simply complied, giving the baby's rump an unflattering whiff.

"Oh yeah. It's him, all right," Aragorn confirmed with a cough, and he looked around, rubbing the back of his neck nervously as he looked around. "I read last night that babies wear these things called diapers. It...you know, absorbs everything, I guess," he said, and Boromir looked amazed. He wanted a diaper! That would be awesome to just go whenever and wherever you pleased. "But I guess when it gets "full", you have to replace it with a fresh one," he said, his lip curling in distaste as he headed away into the bathroom, leaving Boromir to stand there with a mortified look, cradling the baby absentmindedly in his arms.

Aragorn returned shortly, holding what appeared to Boromir as white fluffy underpants and a white bottle that he couldn't identify. He motioned for Boromir to follow him into the kitchen, and he set his things down on the small table. It was terrible that they were seriously going to do this on the kitchen table, but if it's any consolation, they barely new anything about the modern world.

"Set him down, Boromir. Take off his pants [lol, that sounds so wrong]. And then take off the diaper and throw it away," he commanded, and Boromir hesitated before doing what was asked of him. Getting the pants off the kid was simple enough, even if he was a bit squirmy. When Boromir had pulled of the diaper, he felt the urge to run into the bathroom again. The smell was even more awful, and he held the diaper as far from him as he could, before tossing it away in the waste bin.

Boromir kept glancing anxiously over Aragorn shoulder as he set to work, his hands working furiously as he you know...cleaned up the kid. I'm not gonna get into detail. Like, ew, just use your imagination. But just as Aragorn was slipping on the fresh diaper, the baby, um, it...you know. Sprung a leak. Aragorn yelled, clenching his teeth and backing off as fast as he could, but he consequently knocked into Boromir, and the two of them crashed to the ground, the baby laughing wildly all the while. Aragorn groaned, looking down at his now stained vest [as if it wasn't already stained and weathered enough], and he sighed, looking up at the ceiling and wondering what he did wrong to deserve this. "Clean up this mess, Boromir," he said dejectedly.

As Boromir grabbed some paper towels to soak up the...yeah, you know, Aragorn slipped the new diaper onto the baby, this time without any hindrances. Pulling the pants of the child back up and fastening them, he smiled softly, lifting the child up and carrying it back into the living room, leaving Boromir to stay in the kitchen and clean. Heh. Like a woman. Aragorn supported the child against his chest with one arm, while the other lifted the list up to his eyes. It wasn't really a list, just a few of the child's preferences, like favorite toy or food, or when put the child to sleep. His thoughts were interrupted when he heard a whimpering. He rolled his eyes, assuming it was Boromir complaining again, but as the sobbing grew louder, he realized it was the child. His gray eyes flickered over to the child, and he was weeping loudly, his face twisted in distress.

Aragorn held the baby away from him as if it held some sort of disease, and bared his teeth unsuredly. He was no woman, and certainly no mother. What the heck was he supposed to do? The wailing was growing louder, and Boromir bounced into the room, his eyes wide in concern. "What did you do to it?" he demanded, snatching the baby away from Aragorn.

"First of all, it's not an it. It's a he! And secondly, I didn't do anything, idiot! It just started crying for no reason," he defended himself, though he couldn't help feel a tad guilty that the child had shown signs of discomfort when it was in his presence.

"Well, something must have made it start crying!" Boromir retorted, cradling the baby uncomfortably, but it did nothing to console the child, who was now wriggling around in a fit of tears. "What do we do, Aragorn? What did Elrond's book say?" he asked him urgently, his voice having to be raised over the sound of crying.

"Just shut up and let me think!" Aragorn yelled back, rubbing his scruffy beard as he tried to remember a good remedy for a crying baby. Ugh. He was so terrible at recalling things under pressure. But soon, he snapped his fingers, and his eyes lit up. "Oh! Maybe if we entertain it, it'll stop! Go on, Boromir, make it laugh," he said as Boromir sat the baby back down on the rocking chair.

Boromir paused, before clearing his throat and resting a hand on the arm rest of the chair. "Okay, I got one. An elf, a dwarf, and a wizard walk into a Minas Tirith, and the elf says-"

"Not like that, you twat!" Aragorn interrupted in a frustrated tone, shoving Boromir once more out of the way and kneeling down on his knees in front of the chair. The baby was still fussing and wailing loudly. "You have to make faces at it and stuff," he explained, talking to Boromir as if he was a simpleton. He then proceeded to entertain the child, sticking out his tongue and crossing his eyes before cooing at him gently. Well. That didn't work at all. Aragorn even tried peek-a-boo, but that made it even worse, since he ended up scaring the crap of the poor boy. Not literally though. That's already been taken care of.

An hour, maybe even more, passed, and the two men tried everything. They tried feeding it again, but the kid just ended up spitting up all his food on Aragorn. The same happened when they tried to give him a milk formula, but thankfully this time, the liquid was splattered all over Boromir instead, to Aragorn's great joy. They tried giving him toys, from rattled to teddy bears, but it was no use. It just seemed to be crying out to miniature waterfalls, one out of each eye, heavy and continuous. Finally, the child tired itself out, and was now sleeping [and drooling] peacefully on Aragorn's chest, who was now passed out on the couch, Boromir likewise on the floor beside him. Both were snoring loudly, and Boromir kept muttering "I am the mighty Steward Prince of Gondor!", but thankfully he wasn't as loud as usual.

It was later at night now, and the woman returned home to find Aragorn, Boromir, and her son still fast asleep. She smirked softly, taking the child and carrying him into his bedroom before going back into the living room. From there, she slapped Aragorn across the face, and gave Boromir a rough kick in the ribs to wake them up. Both of them drew their swords, which over he years had become a somewhat innate action, but they relaxed when they realized who it was. "Everything went all right, I hope?" she asked them as they grumbled and sat up.  
"Of course!" they said in unison, stealing quick, knowing glances at each other before looking back at the woman.

"Great! Well, here's your pay. See you again tomorrow," she said happily, pulling them both to their feet forcefully and shooing them out the door and into the cold night. She moved into her bedroom, but something didn't feel right. She looked through her delicates drawer, and gasped when she realized that her favorite red party thong missing. _'Hmm. It must've been that weirdo who kept staring at me. Pig,'_ she thought to herself with a roll of her eyes.

Tomorrow. They forgot all about tomorrow. Blast. They'd have to do that again? But hey. They got the money, and that's what was most important. They headed off down the street in silence. Even Boromir was too tired to initiate any conversation. They burst into their apartment to find the rest of the Fellowship huddled around the small glowing box with pictures inside. They all found it simply amazing, especially Gimli, and he didn't once take his eyes of the screen. CSI was on, and he was determined to study any and every criminal television show there was.

"Hey guys! So how was everything?"Legolas asked cheerily, but his eyes widened at the sight of them. Or rather, the sight of Aragorn. "Hey...What's that on your shirt, Aragorn?"

"You don't want to know. Trust me," was the only response they got, and they were making their way out of the living room when Gandalf spoke up.

"Wait just a minute, Aragorn," he said gruffly, and Boromir took this opportunity to make a mad but exhausted dash for the bedroom. Aragorn raised his eyebrows expectantly at Gandalf as he confronted him, and he immediately blushed a red scarlet as Gandalf pulled a thong out from under his shirt. "What is this, Elessar?" he asked suspiciously, and Aragorn snatched it from him, a wild look in his eyes.

"I-It's nothing," he stammered, but quickly regained composure. "I mean, it's um. It's a hat!" he said, putting the thong on his head to prove he was being honest.

The hobbits appeared to be interested, Merry most of all. "Whoa! That's the coolest hat I've ever seen? Could I try it-"

"No! It's mine! Get your own!" Aragorn interrupted him hastily, and quickly went into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him and sighing in relief as he pulled the thong off his head.

Gandalf raised his bushy caterpillar eyebrow as Aragorn left the room, and when the other looked to him expectantly, he simply shrugged. "I can't even begin to guess..." he trailed off, shaking his head and returning to his spot on the sofa.


	5. Chapter 5

_Hey guys, I'd just like to apologize for the prolonged update. School started for me so I'm busy now. Great. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the story. It's not the greatest, to be honest with you, buy myeh. You'll like it, and the next chapter will be better I promise._

_If you have any suggestions on what or who I should put in the story, feel free to tell me! Thanks so much to everyone for being patient and for viewing my story. Every view means a lot to me!_

**Chapter Five**

**Gimli the Top Cop**

There had been many questions the morning after Aragorn and Boromir's first day on the job. Aragorn was edgy every time they mentioned his "hat", and he refused to disclose any information to them. Boromir had been a bit more talkative, and said that the job had been relatively easy, but both men had seemed to make a silent agreement that what went on at work was best kept secret. It was too embarrassing to share for the most part.

Gimli's mind didn't dwell too much on their secrets as he ate breakfast the morning after. There wasn't enough room for everyone to sit at the kitchen table [a mere five chairs were provided], so Gimli was seated with the four Hobbits while the rest of the Company sat at the couch. The Hobbits wouldn't be starting school since it was around Christmas time, and wouldn't finally attend until later on. Gandalf had his interview yesterday at the mall, and they accepted him immediately after they realized his beard was legit. Legolas and Gimli would both be starting today, and Gimli was eager to please his fellow policemen. Tonight, he was going out on a patrol with another more experienced cop, and he was ready to wield his ax, or his gun, I guess. He tried it out a few times on his bedroom wall, and it seemed to work nicely. It terrified Sam and Frodo, along with the rest of the Fellowship. They all seemed to think he was unfit to handle a gun.

Since Gimli's shift wouldn't start until later that night, he spent most of the day just being a lazy old dwarf. As Legolas, Aragorn, Boromir, and Gandalf all went their separate ways to work, Gimli hung around with the Hobbits, watching whatever seemed interesting on television. They were watching The X Factor, which had quickly become one of Pippin's and Merry's favorite television shows.  
"I told you she would lose, Pippin! Pay up!" Merry said as a woman was apparently eliminated from the contest.  
"You got lucky. And I haven't got any money to pay you, twat!" Pippin retorted, and the two Hobbits began to shove each other. This went on for only a few minutes before they returned to watching the show. Gimli sighed. He never thought the Hobbits were this capable of being annoying. He'd rather endure Legolas than them! At least Legolas had nicer hair...blue eyes...a soft complexion...Not that he was really thinking about all of those things...Ahem. Yeah.

A few hours passed, which seemed more like ages to Gimli, but soon it was time for him to prepare for work. Gandalf had returned from his job, which he didn't seem to think was all too bad, and he'd be able to look after the rowdy Hobbits. Gimli went away into his bedroom, and he opened up his dresser. He pulled out his uniform, which had to be specially designed [short and stocky was such a terrible combination when it came to clothes]. It was a simple outfit: navy pants, a navy button-up short sleeved shirt [showing off his most unflattering arms], which had a badge attached to it, and his hat. But it still looked unnervingly strange to see Gimli in something other than his armor and without an ax in his hands. He laid the steel ax on his bed, tucking the covers over it and telling it he'd be back soon before heading out into the living room again. He didn't even give a single goodbye to the others, since they weren't nearly as important to him, and he headed down the street, straight for the police station. Anybody who looked his way, he would growl at menacingly like a wild animal, and he would earn strange looks in return.  
He finally made his way to the police station, which was a few blocks down from the apartment complex. Needless to say, he was panting heavily. Dwarves are better over short distances! The station was small, and there were few cars in the front parking lot. Gimli made his way inside the station, looking around through eyes which were narrowed in suspicion. But oh! There were doughnuts at the front desk. Prefect. He strode up to the desk, where a very bored looking man sat.

"Um...Can I help you sir?" the man said, raising his eyebrow as he could see nothing but the police cap that Gimli wore over the desk.

"Erm, yes. I'm here for the nighttime patrol," Gimli responded gruffly, holding up his badge to show that he was a certified policeman. Or I guess it would be called a policedwarf. He nonchalantly reached up for the doughnut box, and grabbed not one, not two, but three, chocolate glazed doughnuts.

The man watched for a moment as the stubby little paws kept reaching up to take those classic policemen snacks. "Um yeah...Your partner is waiting out back," he said, nodding towards the back door. The man heard no words as an answer, just the sound of smacking lips. Gimli, now with crumbs in his giant red beard, headed off in the direction the man had nodded to, only his sticky fingers and the previously mentioned crumbs being the only thing that gave away his doughnut snacking.

In the back parking lot, only open to staff, there were a few rows of police cars, all black and white with red and blue sirens on top. Gimli still got nervous around cars, and he'd never even been in one yet. He headed along the few rows of cars until a holler from the distance caught his attention. "You! New guy! Over here!" came a voice from the other end of the lot, and Gimli grumbled to himself as he strode towards the car where the man stood.

"My name is Gimli," he said irritably as he approached the man, and though the policeman was a few feet taller than Gimli, he seemed slightly intimidated by the dwarf's rude demeanor.

"Yeah...Right..." the young man said, rubbing the back of his neck as an awkward silence settled between them. "Well, my name's Rick. We'll be going on patrol together," he said, courteously holding out his hand.

"Well, let's get to it then! I'm tired of standing around!" Gimli growled grumpily, ignoring Rick's gesture and heading over to the car he assumed they'd be riding. He looked at the passenger door strangely, unsure of how to control it, but he was smart enough to put two and two together and opened it eventually. He crawled up onto the seat, gazing around as if he were in the mines of Moria. It was so strange, and it smelled weird. Like a nasty mixture of dogs and coffee. Rick sat in the driver's seat, and Gimli nearly screamed like a little girl when the car revved up. It took him a few minutes to get his seat belt on, but luckily Rick was busy with a phone call and didn't notice.

"All right. There's been a robbery a few blocks down from here. Jewelry robbery," Rick said as he pulled out of the parking space, and Gimli gasped in shock. JEWELRY? He wondered if they had mithril.

Without another word, Rick pulled out of the parking lot, and he sped off as quick as a flash, whizzing out of the lot and down the street. Gimli made small grunts of fear and surprise every time they hit a bump in the road, and he nearly wet his panties when Rick flicked on the sirens. Okay, that was it. He hated horns of any kind. He remembered hearing the telephone go off yesterday in the apartment, and he probably spent about ten minutes hiding under the kitchen table.

"Okay, we're here. Follow my lead!" Rick said after about ten minutes as he stopped the car in front of a small, but exquisite looking jewelry store. He hopped out of the car, his gun in his hands and ready for action. Gimli huffed with effort to undo his seat belt, even though it was as simple as pressing down the button, but it was difficult for him nevertheless. It was like a vicious and very aggravating snake trying to constrict him. Once he finally got it off, he kicked open the car door and hopped out, scurrying with his gun pointed at nothing in particular. He was ready to shoot at any minute. He went through the doors to see that Rick was wrestling with a man in ski mask. Gimli stood there, unsure of what to do. He looked around, immediately tempted by the fine jewels and precious metals he saw, but he quickly snapped out of his fantasies, intent on helping his partner. "I got him Rick!" Gimli declared, aiming his gun at the two of them and firing. He didn't even really aim. He just shot and hoped for the best, I suppose. But he certainly didn't get the best. Since his aim was poor, he mistakenly shot poor old Rick in the chest. Oops. Rick froze, and took in sharp breaths. The robber took this opportunity to land one more punch on the man before bolting out of the store.

"Get back here you little son of a-" he hissed in irritation, finding his insults futile now that the men was gone. He turned back to Rick, then looked back outside, then back to Rick, and then outside. Who was he supposed to worry about now? He ended up doing Eeny, Meeny, Miny Moe [is that how you spell it?] to decide. It landed on the outside, and Gimli began to head out of the jewelry store. "No need to fear, Rick! I got him!" he yelled back at the man, who was bleeding badly on the floor out of his gunshot wound.

Gimli ran out the jewelry store, and headed straight for where the police car had been left running. Instead of going on the passenger side, he hopped up into the driver's seat. Which was probably a really bad idea. He could hardly see over the dashboard, and he legs barely reached the accelerator and brake petal. "Umm..." he paused as he sat there, unsure of how to work the vehicle. He was smart enough to guess that the wheel in front of him was used for steering. He pressed down on each petal, first the brake petal, and when that did nothing, he tried the other one. Indeed, the car moved forward with a jolt, causing Gimli to scream in fright. Still determined, he gripped the steering wheel, his eyes focusing in on where he thought the man had run off to. "Damn this confounded contraption..." he muttered to himself in a spluttered manner.

Taking another deep breath, he rammed his foot on the gas and sped forward at a very dangerous rate to where he'd last seen the ski mask man. He swerved all over the place, and luckily it was later at night, at an area where there weren't many cars, or else things could've gotten ugly. He shifted into other lanes frequently, not to mention that he drove on the sidewalk more than half of the time. But hey, to give him credit, he was only a few feet tall.

Soon he found himself catching up where the man was trying to get away. He was dashing along the sidewalk, a sack of jewels hanging over his shoulders as he strode as quickly as he could. Gimli sped up behind him, rolling down his window and firing gun shots at the man, but missing every time. When he had run short of bullets, he hissed angrily, throwing the gun out the window carelessly and onto the street. I guess the only thing left to do was to try and run him over. Gimli was this okay with killing people? Sure! Not like they meant anything to him. He was just trying to do his job Dwarf style! Gripping the steering wheel tightly, and still level with the robber, he sped up just the slightest, timing his swerve perfectly, and nailing the guy right on time. Gimli ended up crashing into a tree in the process, and the airbag nearly killed him, but he managed to scramble out before he was completely suffocated. Straightening up, he looked first at the damage he'd done to the car. Ehh, he'd just leave it there for tonight. Rick could come and get it once he recovered from death.

The dwarf crept forward in search of where the robber had been hit. It was a few feet away from where the car had rammed into the tree. The man lay limp on the ground. It wasn't a pretty sight, needless to say, but he was still alive at least! "I'll be taking that laddie!" Gimli barked, snatching the bag of jewelry out of the man's hand. He then whipped out a pair of handcuffs, clicking them around the wrists of the burglar.

"Maybe next time you'll think about what you did. NOBODY MESSES WITH A DWARF!" he announced, raising his index finger in the air for emphasis. Leaving the man there in critical condition, Gimli began to walk back home. The car was busted, and it's not like he would ever want to drive it anywhere again. Cars really scared the piss out of him now that he's actually driven one of the mechanical beasts. He searched through the sack, amazed at all the valuable pieces of jewelry that were in it. He could sell it, hopefully. The Fellowship could always use some money. He walked back to the apartment with a spring to his step, singing 'Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work we go!' as he walked into the Fellowship's apartment.

The other members were crowded around the television, watching Spongebob to be exact. The Hobbits loved it, and had watched it tonight and last night. They were already hooked. Aragorn, Boromir, and Legolas had returned from their days at work as well, sitting there and pondering what sort of idiots would actually waste their time making such a show.

"Hullo Gimli! How did work fare?" Boromir asked.

"Good, my lad! I killed a jewelry robber. And look what he left for me!" Gimli declared happily, showing them the bag of precious and fine jewelry. They were all amazed, and impressed. Even Legolas seemed to be just the slightest awestruck. You see, normal people would have been horrified to hear that a policeman had killed someone when he could of simply arrested him, but the Fellowship thought it was the coolest thing ever. They were from different times, and different worlds, so that shouldn't really come as a surprise.

"Well, that's good. Perhaps we could sell this to someone," Boromir said, picking up a pair of diamond earrings and looking at them curiously.

"We'll just have to see what happens," Gimli said with a hearty laugh, and looked between Boromir and Aragorn. "So how was work for you? Get any new hats, Aragorn?" he asked, the Hobbits trying to keep in their giggles but ultimately failing.

The conversation ended there. Aragorn stormed off, quite obviously embarrassed, and Boromir went to try and comfort him. Of course, that would only irritate him further, but Boromir didn't understand that. The Hobbits, now tired from staring at the bright television screen for so long, decided to go to bed, and Gandalf as well, since he was old and all old people go to bed early. Legolas and Gimli stayed in the living room for some time, arguing about who had done better at their jobs that day. They soon fell asleep bickering on the sofa, Gimli snoring loudly and clinging tightly to Legolas's leg while Legolas murmured something occasionally how nice Gimli's butt looked in his police uniform. Good thing everyone was in bed at that point.


End file.
